Rose Tyler—The Girl Who Doesn’t Just Let Things Happen

**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary.  If this is your first visit to The Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone.  In said introductory post, which, shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes with a perfectly clear lens—hence the name The Scratched Camera.  Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.**  ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~

Rose Tyler—The Girl Who Doesn’t Just Let Things Happen

            Amy Pond waited years for her Doctor to return and retrieve her; Rose Tyler forced open the TARDIS control panel and built her own path of return.  She did this, not once, but twice, crossing the void to return to his aid once more in series four.  Rose may be of a lower working class than the audience expects the Doctor to accept as a companion, but you will never meet a more fearless and loyal companion. 

            Russell T. Davies, show-runner for series 1-4, purposely set out to break the companion mould with Rose.  She’s an every-day character—her room is always a mess, she doesn’t look attractive when she wakes up, she works a dead-end job that she hates, her mother is constantly pestering her and her boyfriend is acceptable—but doesn’t fulfill everything she truly believes she wants from this world.  In short, when we first meet Rose, she’s settled in almost every facet of her life.  Her mother encourages her to stay in an unsatisfying job at a local shop, in the process sending the message to Rose that she isn’t worth a higher profile or paying position.  Mickey is an adequate boyfriend—he never shows any signs of potential danger; but he, much like Rose’s mother, discourages her from jumping at the Doctor’s offer of adventure, preferring she simply settle back into the comfort of the life they know together. 

            While neither of these are heinous crimes on the part of the offender, they are not the best messages to send to your daughter or significant other.  Tyler, at the end of Rose, has finally reached a point where she can politely decline their insistence that she hold herself back from her true potential.  She’s been waiting for quite some time for an opportunity to jump, and the Doctor—with his little blue box and outstretched hand—gives her just that. 

            I’ve read quite a bit of criticism in the Doctor Who fandom on Rose’s actions here.  There seems to be a somewhat common conception that Rose’s actions are selfish at the close of her introductory episode.  I will not deny that this is partially true.  However, as Mickey literally clings to her stomach and begs her to return home with him so they can do the pub quiz, I find myself muttering in disbelief that she didn’t take the Doctor’s offer the first time around.  On the second offer, Rose doesn’t hesitate for one moment.  Yes, it is selfish of her to leave behind her mother and horribly clingy boyfriend, but, at the age of nineteen, that’s exactly what Rose is supposed to be—selfish. 

            That isn’t to say that Rose is necessarily narcissistic.  On the contrary, some of her larger decisions through the course of series one and two will show us just how unselfish she has the potential to be.  At nineteen, she’s still learning, which is precisely why spending her time with the Doctor is the best possible decision for her. 

            Over the course of series one, as they adapt and learn from each other, we see a mutual trust and reliance build between the pair.  There is a tension between the two, but it doesn’t seem overtly romantic.  It’s more in the sense of complementation—wherein they each positively influence the other.  Rose alleviates Nine’s PTSD, softening his genocidal tendencies and reviving his affections for the human race.  Nine instills a sense of independence in Rose—allowing her to rely on someone other than her mother or her boyfriend for guidance.  Through this counseling, Nine breeds a strong moral code and belief system in Tyler, developing her character into someone who simply can’t sit by and watch the world end—a trait which will come in handy for her numerous times over the next few years. 

            The first half of series one shows us a Rose Tyler we can relate to.  She grows angry and resistant as she sees the stark differences between her human thoughts and Nine’s alien conceptions.  In The Unquiet Dead, we see just how conflicting their respective thinking processes can be.  The Doctor is more than willing to allow the gas-spirits the use of cadavers.  Rose, on the other hand, serves as our audience advocate as she shows her revulsion at the very thought.  By the end of the episode, however, as it is revealed that the weird and creepy gas-based spirits were playing the Doctor for a fool, they appear to have found a far better state of sync, especially in their agreement that they do not wish to die in Cardiff. 

            They will still run into conflicting views as they carry on, as the Doctor is, at his very core, different from Rose.  But, as time goes on, they find a rhythm that allows them to work together to reach a conclusion on the best course of action.  Father’s Day is really the last time they will suffer a disagreement on a large scale, as Rose selfishly—yes, I’ll definitely give you that one—decides to try to save her father.  It is revealed that this is why she jumped at the “it travels in time,” bit. 

            While this is a selfish motive to join the Doctor, it isn’t beyond our realm of understanding.  A pressing need to restore someone we’ve lost—or change some other aspect of our own history that we regret—would be a heavy temptation, one that I don’t doubt would be difficult to refuse.

            After this episode, however, an understanding passes between them.  She never again doubts the Doctor as a firm dedication to him sets in.  Several of Rose’s critics have said her motivation to stay aboard the TARDIS simply moves from one man to another—from her father to the Doctor—after Father’s Day.  They often say that Rose is obviously in love with the Doctor and that serves as her primary motivation for continuing to travel with him after her goal of saving her father failed. 

            There is, of course, a very simple defense against this argument, and his name is Captain Jack Harkness.  Captain Jack crashes into life on the TARDIS in The Empty Child, which directly follows Father’s Day.  Rose is immediately smitten with the Captain—who isn’t?—and, as a result, shows the purely platonic state of her relationship with the Doctor for the following two episodes.  There are, of course, hints at something else developing, particularly as the Doctor breaks his own rules and proceeds to share a dance with his companion.  However, the feelings that are developing appear to be more on the Doctor’s side than Rose’s, for the time being. 

            As the Captain’s two-parter proceeds, Tyler grows to see that Jack, much like herself, has a bit of growing up to do.  He isn’t an overall horrible person, but he’s ambitious and opportunistic in all the wrong ways.  This serves to readjust her perspective on the Doctor, as she takes note of his approach to the situation in stark contrast to Captain Jack’s. 

            But their connection isn’t fully explored until the closing two-parter of series one.  In The Parting of the Ways, we have several revolutionary examples set by a companion, several of which future companion Clara will follow six years later.  But, more on that later—their commonalities could fill an entire post of their own.  Perhaps one day they will.  The Doctor tricks Rose into returning to her own time, via the TARDIS.  Stuck and miserable, she, of course, goes to get some chips with her mother and Mickey.  Always with the chips, Rose. 

            While out, her mother and Mickey attempt to persuade her yet again to settle into her current position.  They make a concentrated effort to tell her that the Doctor sent her back to London for her own safety and she should, therefore, obey his commands and hold steady. 

            But Rose Tyler is no longer one for obeying commands, no matter who is doing the ordering.  She’s spent years listening to Mickey and her mother, settling into a job she hates, settling into a relationship that bores her.  Finally, she’s had enough settling.

Without her by the Doctor’s side, Rose imagines Nine as alone and struggling.  She isn’t wrong—had she not persisted and fought to return, Nine never would’ve managed to simultaneously defeat the Daleks and preserve the safety of the Earth—well, to be fair, future Earth.  But that didn’t matter to Rose, so it doesn’t matter to me. 

            Her frustration results in one of her finest speeches.  Throughout series one, I had been on the fence about both the Doctor and Rose.  In the case of Rose, there was just so much pink—yellow and pink, to be exact.  She was so very feminine, a characteristic that tends to chaff me from time to time, if it’s in excess.  But, much like with Elle Woods, I grew to see Tyler’s softness as a delicacy—an advantage, not a limitation.   With time, I grew to see her sentimentality as a raw and honest trait—similarly to the keen sting in Half-Blood Prince that finally allowed me to see Granger as something more than just a perfect know-it-all. 

            No matter what Rose Tyler is feeling, she feels it strongly.  Her speech in The Parting of the Ways allowed me to see a whole new layer to Rose Tyler—one she learned purely from her time spent with the Doctor. Rose yells, throwing the chips—that’s when you know things have gotten serious—and demanding that the Doctor taught her better than to cowardly sit and await the end of the world, “you don’t just give up.  You don’t just let things happen.  You make a stand.  You say ‘no’!  You have the guts to do what’s right when everyone else just runs away.”  I honestly believe the Rose we first met wouldn’t have had the courage required to not only make this sweeping statement, but to follow through on it. 

After these words, Jackie and Mickey cut back on their criticisms of Rose’s time spent with the Doctor.  They may not always see her changes in character as positive, but they understand that she now has a renewed perspective on what she wants from life—to fight till the end of the world to keep her planet safe—and she’ll do anything to insure she gets what she wants.  Some could call this selfish, I would call it selfless. 

            Again, critics may argue that Rose’s actions to return to the Doctor in The Parting of the Ways are motivated purely out of a love for the Doctor.  While I do believe she’s grown affectionate of the Time Lord, I do not believe that is her only interest in returning.  Her planet is at risk of falling into the species she fears the most in the entire universe.  Rose has repeatedly witnessed the Doctor lay his life on the line for the sake of saving Earth and the human race.  By his example, she can no longer passively sit back and allow her home to be destroyed. 

            She pushes and struggles to get the TARDIS to be operational, in the process unintentionally taking the vastness of the time vortex into her mind and creating a persona that likes to call itself the Bad Wolf.  Bad Wolf flies the TARDIS back to Satellite 5, where it makes its presence known as it destroys all of the Daleks, saving the Earth in an efficiently expeditious operation. 

            Nine, however, isn’t as fortunate.  He sees Rose and knows instantly what must be done—he must remove the vortex from her mind and take it into his, which will kill him, as it would’ve eventually done to her.  As to whether the kiss was necessary, I can’t say.  However, he is the one dying here, so I say que sera sera.  He doesn’t hesitate, taking the necessary actions to save his companion.  When she wakes, dazed and confused, he doesn’t even have enough time to explain the procedure of regeneration before he goes. 

            This mutual action of sacrifice has a stabilizing effect on the relationship between them.  They each placed their lives on the line for the other—not to mention for the fate of Earth—an action that undeniably alters the alliance between them for the rest of their time together.  In essence, they are on equal footing from here on out. 

Prior to this, Rose was certainly a far better match than the companion tended to be on Old Who, but she still relied on the Doctor.  She fell into traps—typically due to the fact that she’s a civilian in unfamiliar territory.  However, with her proactively taking steps to save her own planet and her Doctor, she is placed in the position of the savior—a post previous companions haven’t been privy too.  The chain of command no longer exists between them—their roles are equal and indistinguishable.

            While Rose will continue to occasionally fall for pratfalls—typically, it should be mentioned, when Moffat is at the writing helm—from here on out, the Rose we see with the Tenth Doctor only flourishes further towards fortitude.  In the absence of a conscious Doctor, Rose is the one to step up in The Christmas Invasion, going so far as to confront the Sycorax, despite the fact that they could kill her in a moment flat.  Rose defends the action to Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, saying that never stopped him.  Sure, the words that come out of her mouth may sound like gibberish, but she’s trying and it’s so very human of her—as the Doctor would say—and I feel assured he wouldn’t be the least bit disappointed.

            Series two is very up and down for Rose.  Rose struggles with the introduction of a new and unexpected Doctor.  The transition from Nine to Ten is very authentically done. The Children in Need special that takes place between The Parting of the Ways and The Christmas Invasion shows Rose, in a sense, testing the Doctor, asking questions to see if it really is the man she knew before.  He passes the test, but she still has lingering concerns.

As Ten sleeps his way through the bulk of The Christmas Invasion, Rose battles to come to terms with the fact that this man is supposedly the same as the Doctor she knows.  Her voice cracks as she talks to Jackie about why he didn’t warn her this could happen.  The hurt she shows here vindicates her character in a way, showing me—in a now very Granger-esq way—that she’s human.  We’ve seen that Rose Tyler can save the world, but she is, at her core, still a human being.  She’s vulnerable, particularly on the point of the Doctor, who she had previously counted as her best friend.  The fact that he neglected to tell her one of the most important aspects of his abilities as a Time Lord hurts her; she feels betrayed.  Had she not reacted in this way, the interaction would’ve felt forced and fraudulent. 

            By the end of the episode, Ten has proven to Rose that he is still the same man—saving the Earth one opponent at a time.  With this, he has quickly reassured Rose of his identity and earned Rose’s trust once again and they are set to resume their adventures across the universe. 

            The down side of series two—for both Rose and the Doctor—is the increasing dependability they develop for each other.  Billie Piper defends Rose’s extreme endurance, saying it is a direct result of her near loss of him once before.  Watching Nine die before her—due to an occurrence that was in some way her fault, albeit accidentally—shook Rose to the bone.  She does not wish for a repeat of the debacle and, therefore, holds steadfastly to him. 

            The Doctor isn’t guiltless in this situation either.  He becomes equally devoted to her, although not in the same carefree way Tyler appears capable of.  He warns her, repeatedly, that forever for her is not forever for him. 

Regardless, they carry on this way throughout series two, to the point where, at their farewell, the Doctor goes to great lengths to bid his companion goodbye.  The first parting of Ten and Rose is one of the most painful the show gives us.  We see uncharacteristic declarations and actions from both characters here—characters who are obviously drawn to extreme measures due to the abruptness of their separation.  The Doctor breaks one of his own rules—burning up a sun just to say goodbye. 

That sun can do a lot, but it can’t allow Ten to cross the void and enter Pete’s World, indicating that the two can talk, but not touch—at least, not without destroying the entirety of both universes in the process.  Rose scoffs and responds she doesn’t care. 

            Some would say we’re seeing a relapse to the Rose we met at the beginning of the series—a girl who is selfish at her core.  While what she is saying is inherently selfish, I would argue that it is a very human response (not to mention relatable, but more on that later).  She feels as though the world screwed them both over, by not allowing them at least a proper goodbye and, therefore, feels the need to do whatever is required to set things right between them. 

            However, if an audience member truly thinks Rose feels this way—that she would risk the fate of the entire planet—one, I might mention, she has taken far bigger risks to save in the past—they are missing the deeper point of Rose.  She may feel bitter at the burn of the cruelty of the universe, but she would never go so far as to ruin it to put out her own indignant fires. 

            When we meet Rose again, she’s gone through quite a few changes.  She’s much tougher and resilient—and she now comes packed with a gun.  Her work with Torchwood may have hardened her exterior, but the Rose we still know is clearly evident, particularly when she is finally allowed to reunite with her Doctor.  She keeps calm as she leans over an injured Ten, but allows her emotions to show as Jack is forced to pull her away from a supposedly regenerating Doctor several minutes later.  However, nothing confirms the preservation of our familiar Rose than her reaction to Ten’s maintained hair face, as they both smile at finally a proper reunion. 

            Perhaps the most troubling aspect of Rose’s series four reunion with the Doctor is her ending.  Despite the many repeated viewings I’ve subjected myself to of Doctor Who, I still cannot sort out my own feelings on the matter of her relationship with the human-hand-Doctor—otherwise known as TenToo.  I feel a general apprehension on the issue, knowing that it was most likely the appropriate thing for her to do, but not necessarily the right thing for her.  I was delighted, upon the completion of research for this article, to discover Davies struggled with the separation as well, saying “Rose has to be stupid to fall in love with Doctor #2,” because she’s only “doing what the plot demands, not what she’d demand.” 

            This statement from Davis summarizes my every complaint with the settlement of Rose with TenToo.  Rose appears incredibly out of character in her decision at the end of Journey’s End.  The Doctor’s Rose fights—never settles.  She spent her entire life prior to her introduction to the Doctor doing just that—submitting.  He taught her to be courageous, stand up, push back, demand what you want.  While TenToo does utter the words she needs to hear, and, essentially does need her in the same way Nine did, it still unsettles me to see her settling back into her old means of submission. 

From Bella to Katniss:  Is Rose a good role model?  When we meet Rose, she’s docile, never standing up for her ambitions, constantly in a state of mediocre malleability.  However, the character Rose grows into after exposure to the influence of the Doctor is a much better example to be set.  She refuses to stand by and not help, even if she doesn’t believe she’ll be able to do much.  She’s ambitious—easily stating what she wants and eagerly going after it.  Add to this her training at Torchwood and the results are a definitively durable example of a good role model.  However, despite the fact that I am able to find value in Rose beyond her interest in the Doctor, Mickey or Jack, that does seem to be the item that gets applied to her most often.  Frequently, fans spend far too much time dissecting her feelings for the various males who surround her and too little time dissecting the complexities of her own character.  This is most certainly partly her own fault, as that particularly pestering femininity that I mentioned previously does tend to portray her as flirtatious.  While this is not necessarily a negative trait, it puts far too many interpretations of her stuck in the role of the romantic interest, as opposed to where she should be in her potential as a leading lady. 

Role Model Rating:  6/10

From Lorelai to Wonder Woman:  Is Rose relatable?  I often think of Rose as Amy Pond’s foil.  Amy is without fault—well, to the men who surround her, anyway.  I find plenty of fault in her—she’s beautiful with never a hair or cosmetic out of place.  She’s so beautiful, she’s actually a model for a living.  Rose, on the other hand, is imperfect from head to toe—sometimes literally, as she wakes up with her hair a tousled mess.  Tyler works in a shop, a job she absolutely and admittedly hates—not in a job that allows for an outlet of creativity and, therefore, provides an inherent sense of happiness.  Being miserable in your job is something the general audience can certainly relate to, as I’ve found very few people who are able to find full-fledged felicity in their job.  However, due to Rose’s modest social standing and occupation, there is a smattering of fans who look down upon her.  The Doctor’s affection for someone of Rose’s chav standing—a chav is a character who attempts to appear fashionable, yet who lacks the monetary means to really convincingly portray the standing—seems impossible to some.  In short, some fans see a distinct and uncrossable divide between the Doctor—who is intelligent and brilliant—and Rose who is, at her very core, extremely ordinary.  However, in his own words, the Doctor has yet to find someone who is unimportant.  Because of this, it is her commonplace standing that gives her credit on the Doctor’s behalf; she may see herself as common, but the Doctor senses a deeper potential in her from the start.  The everyday feel of the character, and the elevated potential she eventually accomplishes, allows the audience—well, those of us who aren’t too busy hating her anyway—to relate to her deeply.  For, if ordinary shop-girl Rose Tyler can have a deeper purpose and become the most important person to someone as invaluable as the Doctor, why can’t we?

Relatability Rating:  9/10